


Shut Up and Trust Me

by foxsmoulder



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Flashbacks Because I'm a Sucker for Exposition, Fluff, Flustered Lance (Voltron), Keith Has Got Game, Light Angst, M/M, Mixed POV, Strangers Going on an Adventure, Strangers to Something...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 11:01:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxsmoulder/pseuds/foxsmoulder
Summary: Alt. Title - Lance, Keith and a Bat called DimitriOr, the story of how Lance ended up boarding a plane to England at 3am with a cute boy he met at a bar.





	Shut Up and Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuse for this.  
> I just hope you don't hate it.

* * *

The night was young, and the guy was cute.

Okay, maybe the night wasn’t young, it was pretty old, 1 am to be exact. But the guy, damn he was cute.

He’d met the guy, Keith, over drinks at a bar, a bar where he was supposed to be on a date with someone else, but he spotted the dark-haired moody-looking motherfucker and just had to say something, he didn’t want to miss that chance. So he bought him a drink, or two or three.

Eventually, Lance’s date had walked out after calling him an asshole, and Keith and Lance were three quarters of a bottle of vodka deep into a date of their own.

Past leaving the bar and getting in a taxi at 1 am, the last words that Lance could remember leaving Keith’s gorgeous lips that night were –

“Shut up and trust me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lance’s eyes opened with much effort, as he took in his surroundings, the thudding in his head was so intense that he couldn’t even leap out of bed in shock as he realised he definitely wasn’t at home. This looked like some fancy-ass hotel room, a hotel room that he would never have been able to afford.

What the fuck happened last night?

With even more effort, he rolled over, to take in the body lying next to him, thick dark hair that poured onto the pillow beneath him, but much to Lance’s surprise, they were both fully clothed, so at least there was that.

Lance had found himself in some interesting situations, but never before had he woken up in a hotel room the likes of which he’d only ever seen in movies, he wondered how the hell they’d managed to wrangle this one.

He rubbed his face, pushing his body up gently with his arms. The room was fucking huge, all plush cream carpet and magnolia walls, posh and possibly meaningful artwork adorning the mahogany ledge above the ornamental fire-place (A FIREPLACE?!). In front of said fireplace, were two couches, striped cushions and classical wooden edging. This hotel room had a fucking living room in it. He pulled off the thick duvet and stretched out of the bed, the carpet was soft and comforting underneath his feet.

He glanced around and noticed a door, presumably branching into another room, when he pushed it open, he discovered what could only be described as a roman bath. It was a fucking wet room, ceiling to floor was tiled, beige tiles with flecks of gold and under-floor heating, a free-standing bronzed-clawed bath and a rain-fall shower.

“Holy shit.” He whispered out-loud.

He heard the guy, Keith, stirring in the bed behind him, and in a panic he leapt into the bathroom, slammed the door and locked it behind him. He dashed over to one of the two sinks – because of course there were two sinks - and began rinsing his face, he glanced up at himself, and he looked like shit. Though he couldn’t really be surprised because that was definitely how he felt.

He reached around in his pocket for his phone and pulled it out, he glanced at the time, breathing a sigh of relief upon discovering that it was only 2:34pm. He glanced up with an un-welcome start when he noticed a large, old-fashioned, golden handed clock hanging above the mirror which read… 7:34pm.

How… was his phone off by five hours?!

He rubbed his face, he was probably just still a little intoxicated, and now he was going to have to face the literal stranger he’d shared an extremely expensive night in a hotel with.

He glanced up at the clock again, and back down at his phone. It really felt like something was severely amiss.

Five hours was a large margin of error, there was absolutely no way that he slept through until 7pm the next day, even when he was a hungover teenager it was something he never allowed himself to do. There had to be something wrong with that clock, for a big fancy hotel, they obviously didn’t adjust for daylight savings.

He tried to quell the churning in his stomach as he unlocked the door and was greeted by the sight of Keith who was since Lance had vacated the bed, star-fishing gracefully. The length from his bangs framing his pale face, eyes closed contentedly. Lance would have paid more attention to how cute he was, if he hadn’t have noticed how… dark it was outside. It was only 2pm… why was it so damn dark?

Something… was definitely not right, it all felt extremely unusual. His legs, shakily, carried him over to one of the thick, cream, ornately-patterned curtains covering the windows, he grabbed the expensive-feeling fabric and threw it back.

Fuck.

“Uh. Keith?” Lance’s voice broke as he spoke, he heard Keith, the literal perfect stranger, grunting in response. “W-where are we?”

Because, Lance hadn’t done a whole lot of travelLing, he’d not gone too far out of New Mexico or New York, but this sure as shit did not look like any American city he’d ever seen.

He glanced back at Keith, who was now leant, propped up on his elbow, a stupid, gorgeous smirk on his face.

“You don’t remember anything from last night do you?” Keith scoffed, Lance blanched at that, giving him a desperate look.

Lance looked back out of the window, and it hit him all at once. He’d seen this same city-scape a million times, in photos, on pillows, on posters, in movies, on TV shows. The muted tones, the splashes of pallid grey against glittering glass windows of the towering, near monolithic buildings. The swell of the winding river which had become so recognizable thanks to the infamous nature of their current location.

“What the fuck.” Lance tensed up completely, the colour draining from his face. “WHY THE FUCK ARE WE IN LONDON, KEITH?!”

 

“Yes, mamá, I’m fine.” Lance groaned down the phone, he was currently on the London underground, clinging onto the pole in front of him, glaring Keith down, who was watching him with great amusement on his face. “Lo siento, I know, it’s fine. Yes, he’s definitely not a kidnapper. I promise… I think… I hope…”

Lance glanced around. London was a fucking weird place, it felt a lot like New York, but somehow, different. Full of people of different creeds, nationalities, colours and fashion senses. There was a guy with a backwards facing cap twisting playing cards languidly and deftly through his fingers. He could hear the crackling of his connection giving out, signal was apparently terrible underground.

“I have to go mamá, I promise I’m fine.” Lance groaned, as the train pulled up at a station and Keith motioned to him that it was nearly their stop. “Te amo, I’ll send you pictures… or my ransom note, either way you’ll be getting something!”

He hung up the phone and stared at Keith, hard. Still coming to terms with the fact that his first date with this insanely sexy and interesting guy, happened to be in a different country. Could he even call it a date, they were on fucking vacation, after knowing each other for less than 24 hours.

And really, in a roundabout way, Lance had definitely been kidnapped. Keith had insisted that Lance was totally into it, and luckily for Keith and unluckily for Lance, Lance kept his passport on him almost always. He had a young face and no driver’s license.

“How you feeling?” Keith hadn’t been able to wipe the smirk off his face since he’d seen Lance freaking out in the hotel room that morning. Lance narrowed his eyes at him, allowing a childish pout to express his righteous indignation.

“I feel anger.” Lance muttered, stumbling against the movement of the underground train, pressing into Keith’s body accidentally, one of his arms casually wrapping itself around Lance’s waist to stabilize him. Lance could feel the heat radiating from him, his gaze a soft regard.

Honestly, Lance had had worse date… vacation… things.

“Hey, once we get to dinner, I’ll tell you everything,” Keith smiled, arm strong around Lance’s waist. “Since you definitely don’t remember a thing.”

“I remember you telling me to ‘shut up and trust’ you,” Lance scoffed, staring at a woman across the carriage, carrying a tiny terrier in her arms, trying to ignore the heat in his cheeks, trying not to enjoy his kidnapper's embrace too much.

“Oh yeah, but that was because you didn’t believe I was taking you to the best chicken place in New York.” Keith laughed.

Fuck. He hated that he couldn’t remember anything, he could only imagine that whatever had happened had been a fucking adventure.

 

* * *

 

Keith was watching Lance shovel chicken into his mouth, and it should have been disgusting, but holy shit, everything this guy did was weirdly sexy.

“Man, you were right.” Lance slurred, his eyes rolling back with pleasure. Keith could get used to that face.

“I know, right?” Keith smirked, taking a sip of his soft drink. They were sat on the windowsill outside of the shop, the pleasant hum of the city past midnight all around them. “Told you to trust me.”

“Okay, just assume from here on out that I will always trust you.” Lance chuckled, polishing off his bucket and depositing it on the floor by the window. “So, Keith, mystery man extraordinaire, where to now?”

“You said you trusted me right?” Keith was having the single most ridiculous, but greatest idea he might ever have. Lance only nodded enthusiastically in response. “Ever been to London?”

 

* * *

 

They finally felt a gust of fresh air after climbing what seemed like a thousand steps, the cool feeling of it immediately made Lance feel a million times better. He had found himself clutching onto Keith’s hands for dear life, being that the stiflingly thick crowds of people threatened to drag them away from each other.

Lance could tell by Keith’s casual, confident demeanour, that he had done this a million times.

“Hey, quick question,” Lance awkwardly pulled his hand out of Keith’s grip. “You do realise that you’ve kidnapped me right?”

Keith spun round, a highly amused smirk on his face, a similarly amused light in his eyes.

“Have I?” Keith smirked, folding his arms as they finally reached the surface.

Lance stared all around him, he recognized this place. It was a lite version of Times Square, huge LED screens projecting adverts for soft drinks and perfume. A statue of Eros mounted upon several stone steps, poised gracefully with his bow and arrow ready. Lance absent-mindedly crossed the road, staring up at it, the god of Love, how apt, though that might be a little presumptuous at this stage. A guy in a hoody with a beaten up guitar stood a little ways away singing early noughties indie-rock love songs, and people took pictures underneath a canopy of twinkling lights.

All around them were theatres, restaurants, and connecting it all together were the foundations of some stunning buildings. Buildings with the kind of history and architecture that could only be replicated aesthetically in America.

He found himself actually spinning around, like a goddamn tourist, to take it all in. There were people everywhere, it was just like New York, he felt comfort in that familiarity, the hustle and bustle seemingly never ended. He stopped and looked at Keith, who was watching him with a soft smile. This beautiful stranger, who looked at him as if he were the stars filling the night sky. He felt like he'd missed so much in his drunken forgetful haze, but he'd never forget that face.

“Are you gonna sell me on the deep web?” Lance folded his arms, raising his head judgementally, Keith scoffed, taking out his phone and holding it up to take a picture of Lance with all the scenery behind him.

“Ah yes, Dimitri was very specific about the kind of husband he wanted,” Keith snapped the picture, in which Lance couldn’t stop himself from posing with what was hopefully a heart breaking smile. “You pretty much fit the bill, but Russia’s not too nice this time of year though, sorry for that one.”

“You’re such an ass,” Lance smirked, grabbing the phone out of Keith’s hand and staring at the picture, it was… pretty nice. The lights above him lit his features in all the right ways.

“Look’s cute right?” Keith spoke his voice a quiet husk, and Lance noticed all at once that Keith was centimetres away from nuzzling his neck. Heat settling in his cheeks, he moved away and thrust Keith’s phone into his chest.

“Did you take that so you could send it to this ‘Dimitri’?” Lance huffed, folding his arms. Keith smirked at his sassy behaviour and pocketed his phone.

“Sure, that’s the reason.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So, how long is a flight to England?” Lance asked, sipping his drink and leaning towards Keith, a flirty smile spread on his lips. Another face that Keith could get used to.

“It’s less than seven hours,” Keith shrugged.

They’d found themselves in the first class lounge, after Keith discovered that Lance was… very good with people. Even when Keith had been travelling alone, he’d not even bothered to try and get in here. He was pretty sure all you had to do was pay for a guest pass, but Lance insisted on flirting his way in there.

Keith was minutely jealous, but more than anything insanely turned on by how goddamn shameless this boy was, leaning forward on the desk, eyes heavily lidded. As far as Keith was concerned, the girl had no other option than to let them in. Keith knew in her position he would have done absolutely the same thing and she wasn’t even the one getting an insane view of Lance’s ass.

Now they were waiting for their flight to be called, and Keith could not have been more grateful for Shiro’s company credit card, burning a hole in his pocket, because the look on Lance’s face was unforgettable. He was sure after all this, Shiro would understand, Lance was the most gorgeous, magnetic thing that Keith had ever laid his eyes on. And it wasn’t often that Keith did impulsive, crazy things for cute guys.

“Seven hours with only each other as company?” Lance’s eyebrows raised and Keith swallowed the lump in his throat. “I hope they’ve got some good movies!”

“Y-yeah, me too.” Keith smirked.

 

* * *

 

 

“Chinatown?” Lance exclaimed, gesturing to the oriental styled buildings all around them. Paper lanterns strung across lampposts above them. Keith smirked and shook his head slightly, tucking his arm casually through Lance's and leading him a little ways away, not quite Chinatown, but Keith seemed to have enjoyed the look in his eye nonetheless.

“You got any worthy suggestions?” Keith shrugged, which of course Lance didn’t. Out of the two of them, Keith definitely knew what he was doing, being that Lance had very little knowledge of London or its restaurants.

They headed into a glass-fronted, classy looking ramen establishment, where someone by the front door banged on a drum loudly as they entered. Lance stared all around him inhaling the delicious scent of grilled chicken and spices, as Keith greeted the waiter.

They were taken to a table for two, tucked away in the corner. The restaurant was dimly lit and the décor was almost completely comprised of wood. It was all stunning, and Keith seemed pretty at home there. In fact, he just seemed completely at home full stop, must have been a London thing.

“So, fancy telling me how exactly you managed to get me on a plane halfway across the world.” Lance smirked after ordering a drink.

“It’s not really halfway across the world, it’s a less than seven hour flight,” Keith scoffed, scanning the menu like he knew what he was looking for.

“A technicality.” Lance waved the comment away dismissively with his hand. “So? Tell me, did you use chloroform? Spike my drink? What’s your deal, dude?”

“Hey, like I said, I suggested it, and you practically bit my arm off in excitement,” Keith rolled his eyes. “Here, Let me order for you.”

Lance had never had anyone insist on ordering food for him before, but being that Lance didn’t know much about ramen or Japanese food in general, he relented, shrugging nonchalantly. And it felt… vaguely romantic and only served to make Keith seem even more interesting and cool.

“So… what, we just… jumped on a plane, and flew to London?” Lance stared him down.

“Pretty much.”

 

* * *

 

Keith took in the sight of Lance bundled up in a blanket, knees pulled tight to his chest, headphones in, completely wrapped up in whatever film it was that he was watching. From the colours on the screen reflecting onto Lance’s face, Keith could see that it was most likely an animated kid’s film. He dropped into the seat beside him and motioned to a stewardess to bring them more drinks.

Maybe Shiro wouldn’t be so understanding when he discovered the bill, he’d just have to work overtime to make it up to him, Keith could do that, Lance seemed worth it. Especially going by the muted awe on his face as he enjoyed the film, he'd never known anything to be so hard to look away from as Lance's palpable excitement.

When the stewardess bought over their drinks, he nudged Lance’s shoulder and went to hand it over, Lance glanced over and excitedly threw an arm around Keith’s shoulders, almost spilling most of their drinks. Pulling him into him, Keith's forehead connecting gently with Lance's cheek, he smelt like booze and fancy aftershave, aftershave he'd worn for someone else, the someone that Keith was lucky enough to drag him away from.

“C’MON, get the headphones in! It’s gettin’ to the good part!” Lance squealed, gesturing to the screen. Definitely an animated kid’s film. “This is my nephew’s favourite movie!”

Keith looked at Lance’s excited little face and felt his stomach twinge. He put the drinks onto their trays and grabbed the headphones they’d been provided, and slotted them into the headphone jack in Lance’s arm rest.

Though he didn’t do much watching of the film.

When he’d seen Lance at the bar, he’d made a mental note to talk to him, till he saw the fact that Lance was on a date, and his mood was ruined, so much so that he almost got up to leave. Till they made eye-contact and he saw the intention in Lance’s face.

He abandoned his date for him, and hell if that wasn’t the sexiest thing that had ever happened to him. And at first, that was all Lance was, a sexy guy he’d met at a bar. Keith was used to being somewhat careless, he definitely was not a stranger to one night stands, but… the more they talked and the more they drank, the more he thought that this could not be one of those nights.

Perhaps taking Lance to London was a little over the top, but he was terrified that if he didn’t do something dramatic, he might not ever see Lance again. And seeing Lance so happy made all of this... stupidity some might call it, completely and totally worth it.

And now he was watching Lance’s excited little face, watching a goddamn children’s movie and Keith was actually blushing, blushing because he’d never met someone who could be so insanely sexy and adorable at the same time.

 

* * *

 

Keith was pretty charming, charming in the moody, sarcastic, mysterious kind of way, which was Lance’s new favourite kind of charming.

“W-wait, what happened when we got to security?” Lance stammered, ripping off a piece of his steamed bun and stuffing it in his mouth. Keith had chosen extremely well, Lance found comfort in the fact that Keith seemed to know exactly what he was doing when it came to food.

“Oh it was no sweat, we didn’t exactly have bags or anything, did we?” Keith smiled, polishing off his ramen and leaning back casually in his chair, his eyes soft and never leaving Lance's whilst a slight smirk formed on his lips. “You are awfully… complimentary though, aren’t you?”

“W-what?” Lance faltered for a second, that could have meant an awful lot of things, and the fact that Lance couldn’t remember a damn thing filled his brain with terrifying possibilities.

“Nothing, you just flirt with everything that moves on the reg?” Keith asked, taking a sip of his drink, watching Lance’s face pull up into a smirk.

“Sounds like someone’s a little jealous.” Lance couldn’t help himself, because Keith was definitely not wrong, Lance _loved_ to flirt. And that side came out in him even more when he was intoxicated.

Keith raised an eyebrow and leant forward on the table between them, his hand's tantalizingly close to Lance's.

“Maybe,” Was all that Keith had to say to render Lance completely silent, if Hunk were here, he’d have said that Lance had met his match.

He had to constantly keep reminding himself that Keith was still a perfect stranger. But dammit if he didn’t want that to no longer be the case.

When the bill came and Keith clapped down a small piece of black shiny plastic, Lance glanced from it, to Keith.

“Are you trying to impress me?” Lance raised one eyebrow. “Because I can pay for myself you know. Seems only fair assuming that you definitely paid for our plane tickets.”

“That’s okay, don’t worry, I’m definitely trying to impress you.” Keith held his hand over the top of the card, to dissuade Lance from depositing his own card there.

“And the hotel room?” Lance raised his eyebrows, polishing off the remaining dregs of his drink.

Keith just shrugged, coolly and without a hint of hesitation, as the waiter came over with a card machine to take Keith’s payment.

 

* * *

 

 

As they exited the airport, Keith hailed a cab and Lance stared around at the night sky, like he’d never seen the stars before, his face full of wonder.

“Holy shit, we’re actually here.” Lance breathed, his arms outstretched. That was all that Keith wanted, he wanted that huge, beautiful smile plastered ceaselessly on Lance’s face.

He reached out and grabbed Lance’s hand and dragged him into the cab.

“Oh man, I’ve never been on the other side of the road before.” Lance gushed quietly, Keith couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. “What? I haven’t! This is exciting!”

“No, no, I know, you’re just, so cute.” Keith smiled, reluctantly releasing Lance's hand to buckle himself in as the cab moved off, Lance’s little blushing face looked away as he followed suit.

“You think I’m cute?” Lance almost sounded disbelieving, there was no way that Lance didn’t know that he was cute.

“Have you seen you?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Well then, can you honestly dispute me?”

Lance stayed silent, his body slowly leaning into Keith’s, so naturally that Keith was sure Lance didn’t even realise he was doing it.

“I haven’t seen the stars since the last time I went home.” Lance’s voice was so quiet and soft, Keith wasn’t entirely sure he’d even heard it right.

“Where’s home?” Keith asked, innocently enough.

“New Mexico.” But he sounded so devastated. Keith glanced down at Lance’s sweet little, sad looking face. “You?”

“Born, deep in the heart of Texas,” He tried to give himself a little bit of a southern drawl in an attempt to lighten the mood, which worked to some extent.

“Y’aint.” Lance smiled softly. Keith wasn’t sure if it was what Lance had said, or just the way he said it, but he found himself laughing.

“Hey, fun fact, I can milk cows.” Lance raised one finger in the air, and raised it to the roof of the cab. Keith followed the gesture and reached out, almost automatically, to capture Lance's hand in his, resting it against the space between them.

“A fella after my own heart.”

 

* * *

 

 

“So, how on earth are you affording all this,” Lance asked as they stepped back out into the bustle of the London night time. He turned to grip onto Keith's shoulders, staring him in the face, quite serious. “Are you secretly the Russian billionaire? Dimitri? Is that you?!”

Keith chuckled as he hooked an arm through Lance’s.

“How did you know?” Keith smiled, feeling Lance’s body naturally lean into him in response as they walked.

“You’ve got that look about you,” Lance smiled, tugging on the jacket he’d been wearing since Friday night. He felt gross, and exhausted from the time difference, but he wasn’t ready to call it a night, not by any stretch of the imagination, not when the look on Keith’s face told him he had plans.

“If I told you the truth, you probably wouldn’t be so impressed by me,” Keith smiled softly. “So I’ll keep that little secret to myself.”

 

* * *

 

 

“KEITH HOLY SHIT ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” Lance cried, running into the hotel room and kicking off his shoes, he leapt onto the bed and dropped into the thick, comfortable looking duvet.

“It’s pretty nice right?” Keith smiled, watching Lance roll around in the thick downy sheets, the soft ambient lights gentle on his dark features.

“Oh my god, I feel like a high-class prostitute in a movie,” Lance cooed, gathering up the duvet around his face and nuzzling it happily. “C’mon! Get over here! You gotta feel these sheets!”

Keith shucked off his jacket and approached the bed, Lance’s eyes flew open and with both hands he pulled Keith down onto the bed beside him. Keith felt all the air leave his lungs as he opened his eyes, he turned to Lance who was staring at him, bundled up in the sheets, a warm smile gracing his lips. They were centimetres away from each other, Keith could see the freckles dancing across Lance’s nose, the different flecks of blue in his eyes, and how Lance’s lips were intensely inviting.

“I think you’re cute too.” Lance suddenly said, breaking Keith out of his mesmerized daze.

“You really think so? Or are you saying it to be polite?” Keith smirked, gesturing to the room. “I know I bought our plane tickets and paid for this hotel room, but you don’t have to lie.”

Lance without tearing his eyes away, reached above his head, grabbed a pillow and smacked Keith heavily in the face with it.

“No, I actually think you’re cute.” Lance smirked, pulling the pillow he’d just assaulted Keith with to his chest. “C’mon, I think it goes without saying considering I left an actual date for you.”

“Yeah, that was pretty nice.” Keith smirked. Lance blinked his eyes a few time, yawning loudly, he was obviously exhausted, finally. He’d only napped for about an hour on the plane.

Keith was so used to travel, that he survived pretty much exclusively on three hours sleep every night. Sure it wasn’t healthy, but it worked for him. It meant he got to watch Lance’s once endlessly energetic face, fall into a soft sleepy expression. If Keith had been even one iota more confident, he'd have pulled Lance into his arms. He wanted for once in his life to fall asleep with someone wrapped up in his arms, to wake up with that beautiful, sleepy face close to him. But he didn't.

“Thank you, Keith.” His eyes began drifting shut, his voice soft and full of exhaustion. “I needed this.”

“Me too, buddy, me too.”

 

* * *

 

“How can they call this place a garden, Keith?! This isn’t a garden!” Lance exclaimed, gesturing around him, and Keith guessed he wasn’t technically wrong.

“It was named in the 1500s because it used to be a farmers market,” Keith laughed. “But forget about that, try this!”

Keith gestured to the cocktail in front of Lance. Keith had taken them to a very, very fancy cocktail bar, it had been a ten minute walk. A walk filled with streets that looked the same, and people who looked very different. They had walked past an obnoxiously bright chocolate shop that apparently pumped the scent of chocolate into the air, and Lance had been desperate to go into it, only for Keith to shut him down with weak excuses like ‘it’s too expensive’ or ‘no they don’t actually sell M&M’s that big’.

There had been street performers in the street, chasing people with flowers made from thin balloons, people pretending to be statues, terrifying everyone that got too close and a LOT of drunken twenty-somethings in little to no clothing. If Lance hadn’t been on something… resembling a date, there were a lot of pretty people that Lance wouldn’t have minded using his wiley charms on.

“Damn, the English are sexy.” Lance muttered, taking a sip of the drink that Keith proffered. Keith scoffed and rolled his eyes in response. The drink was definitely something… strong, with a sickly sweet taste to it, Lance didn’t mind it, in fact he liked it, a lot.

“Am I gonna lose you to some charming English man?” Keith smirked, leaning his elbows on the table between them, the candlelight below him making his features glow and flicker delicately.

Lance shrugged teasingly, but he knew the answer already.

 

                _Shiro – Hey, did I leave my company credit card with you?_

_Shiro – Keith?_

Keith tried to ignore his phone, he was too busy living a goddamn dream to even worry about the kind of bill he was racking up on Shiro’s credit card.

Lance was tipsy and beautiful, resting against him as Keith carried him back to the hotel room, thinking that it all felt extremely familiar. He glanced down at the watch he’d remembered to change to the right time, and saw that it was almost midnight. They’d officially known each other for a full twenty four hours. A day that he was grateful in knowing he'd never forget.

“Hey, look, happy day-versairy!” Lance smiled, his eyes gently open, in that space between awake and asleep, pointing and tapping heavily on Keith’s watch, like he was reading his mind.

“What a day it’s been, huh?” Keith smiled, feeling one of Lance’s arms come to wrap around his waist, Keith knew it was probably for extra support for his failing, exhausted legs, but his heart picked up at the gesture.

“Yep, I got kidnapped, fed and watered.” Lance lolled his head onto Keith’s shoulder lazily. “Definitely not the worst way to spend twenty four hours, even if I don’t remember most of it.”

Keith pushed the door of the hotel open with his free hand and helped Lance into the elevator. The twinkling music played around them as they waited for the elevator to reach their floor. He was somewhat gutted that Lance didn't remember the journey, it had been so hilariously eye-opening for the both of them as they kept talking, divulging - as you do when under the influcence - their worst fears and greatest insecurities. Keith felt like he knew too much about Lance, that it was a little unfair, though he wouldn't mind learning all those things over again, if Lance was willing to let him.

As they entered the hotel room, Lance fell unceremoniously on the bed and began tugging on his jacket messily.

“God, I can’t believe you kidnapped me in these clothes.” Lance groaned, he was struggling, but managed to finally pull off his jacket, leaving only his smart black jeans and baby-blue shirt, his planned date outfit. “Help me!”

“Help you?!” Keith sputtered, staring at Lance’s form on the bed, ungraceful and yet so fucking hot.

“Yeah, you got me drunk, for the second time, in these clothes,” Lance groaned, face buried in the sheets. “You can at least help me out of them.”

“Hey, the first time you bought _me_ the first drink.” Keith folded his arms, watching Lance flailing with the buttons on his shirt.

“THAT’S IRRELEVANT!” Lance exclaimed, “I am your kidnap… victim… person, so help me with these goddamn buttons, right now!”

With that, Lance rolled onto his back, arms extended either side, shooting Keith an expectant look. Keith gulped around the lump that was forming in his throat. He stood with his shins resting against the edge of the bed between Lance’s legs, and tried to lean his body forward to reach Lance’s shirt, but he clearly wasn’t going to get anything done.

He brought one knee up onto the bed, resting right next to Lance’s thigh, the owner of which didn’t seem to notice as his eyes slowly drifted open and shut repeatedly. As Keith leant forward to reach Lance’s buttons properly, his knee made contact with the inside of Lance’s thigh, he tried to ignore the feeling coiling in his chest as he brushed his fingers against the top button of Lance’s shirt.

Fuck, he was about to see this guy shirtless, the hot guy he’d known for just twenty four hours, was about to be shirtless in front of him. And usually this would not be an issue, he’d been around shirtless guy’s he’d known for less than three hours, but this felt… so weird, so different.

The heat in his cheeks settled heavily and uncomfortable as he managed with shaking fingers to start un-doing buttons. Revealing more and more of Lance’s broad, deep caramel-coloured chest, Keith’s fingers looked pure white next to him. Finally, he reached the last button and watched as Lance pushed himself up so he was sitting upright, almost flush against Keith’s abdomen.

Keith took that as a hint he should pull the arms of the shirt off, which when he did, Lance flopped backwards, heavily, onto the bed, eyes well and truly shut, he was going to be completely passed out before long. It took everything within him not to run his fingers across the soft, bare skin practically there on a platter for him.

“Please tell me you can undo your jeans yourself,” Keith huffed, he’d learnt quickly that Lance was a lightweight, and not only that, he was a clingy, flirty drunk. 

“Like you haven’t been wanting to get into my pants all night,” Lance smirked, his eyes still shut. Keith flushed a deeper magenta, he was sure, but Lance couldn’t tell through closed eyes. And if Lance was so good at dishing it out, Keith couldn’t help but wonder if he could take it.

“Man, have I been that obvious?” Keith drawled. “It’s hard to be subtle around someone as gorgeous as you.”

Lance definitely couldn’t take it, as Keith watched, literally watched in real time, a pink blush bloom on Lance’s face, and then on his chest and ears.

Keith could get used to that.

 

“Where are we going? And where the hell did you get these clothes from!” Lance exclaimed. He’d woken up to the feeling of plastic shopping bags being thrown at his face.

“I woke up early and went out and grabbed some,” Keith shrugged, placing a takeaway cup of coffee onto the bedside next to Lance. “You can’t wear the same clothes three days in a row.”

Lance wasn’t about to admit that that was something he did on the reg. He opened up the bag and poured out the clothes, there were a lot of the same... black t-shirt.

“I didn’t know your size, so I got you one of each…” Keith muttered, stroking his chin, still completely unsure as he appraised Lance with his eyes.

“Did you not think to check my shirt after you undressed me last night?” Lance scoffed, picking up the XXL that Keith had picked up and holding it against his bare chest. “Really? Keith?”

“Huh, I didn’t think of that. I was distracted.” Keith raised his eyebrows innocently. “Y’know, by you, shirtless, underneath me?”

It seemed that Keith had discovered Lance’s weakness. Lance physically couldn’t cope when people flirted back. And now that he’d discovered it, Lance had a feeling he’d be torturing him all day with it.

Lance pouted and grabbed the shirt closest to his size and slipped it on, stepping out of bed in just his boxers and t-shirt on. If it was gonna be a game, Keith was about to learn about Lance’s competitive side.

Lance had to keep reminding himself that they had met less than two days ago, because… the way they bantered back and forth just felt so natural, like they’d known each other forever. He had to stop the victorious little smile that appeared on his face, when he glanced back and realized his prancing around in boxers was a complete success. Keith excused himself very quickly, telling Lance to hurry up, a beautiful pink tinge on his cheeks.

 

“Oh my god, are we going into an actual dungeon?!” Lance breathed, he’d been clutching onto Keith’s arm the entire way, he didn’t seem to like the underground one little bit. Keith wasn't surprised, the underground took some getting used to, it was hideously claustrophobic and people were assholes.

“No, it’s just an attraction, like an... experience.” Keith smiled, trying to be reassuring. “It’s a depiction of life in England across a 1000 year span. Like Jack the Ripper and stuff like that. It’s supposed to be really interesting.”

“You mean you haven’t been yet?” Lance blanched, his grip on Keith’s arm getting tighter.

“Not yet, but… I’m not easily scared.” Keith smirked. Lance narrowed his eyes at Keith letting go of his arms and placing his hands on his hips.

“Me neither.”

Turns out they were just as easily scared as each other. As soon as they walked in, and were met with the sight of a screaming skeleton, they both screamed and immediately flew into each other’s arms.

“FUCK, KEITH WHERE HAVE YOU BROUGHT ME?!” Lance squealed, as they continued through the attraction, creepy decorated wax-works depicting the true macabre horrors of being a prisoner in the Victorian era, actors in horrifically convincing make up approaching them.

“I don’t know, but it’s fine, we’re fine, I’m not scared.” Keith breathed, though the vice-like grip he had on Lance’s arm said otherwise, it was like Keith would destroy the atoms between them if it meant he was closer to Lance. “We’re gonna do this, I believe in us.”

“At least one of us does.” Lance whispered.

 

“Lance, I don’t even think Sweeney Todd is a real person.” Keith whispered as the room fell dark, and their hands found each other, gripping tightly, panicked heat radiating between them.

“No, no it’s definitely a musical.” Lance whispered back, gripping Keith’s hand tightly in his own, he hated suspense, he hated jump-scares, but most of all, he hated Keith for dragging him into this with no prior experience or research.

“What?! It’s a musical?! Then why is it so fucking scary?!” Keith whined quietly, they were supposed to be listening to an actor playing Sweeney Todd, telling them all about… Sweeney Todd, in a darkened room filled with chairs and other terrified-looking patrons.

“It’s Sondheim, it’s creepy, it’s weird.” Lance whispered in response. “It’s pretty much my only frame of reference for London as a city!”

“THEY DON’T COOK PEOPLE INTO PIES HERE LANCE, IT’S NOT A THING.” Keith cried, his nails digging into Lance’s hand, the music swelling darkly, as someone sat in the row behind them politely told them to shut the fuck up.

 

Lance walked out of the gift shop with a small, stuffed bat in his arms and a victorious smirk on his face. He’d forced Keith to buy him it to make amends for the torture they’d just endured.

“Are you going to name him?” Keith winced against the bright sunshine, taking the deep, cleansing breath he so desperately needed.

“It’s Dimitri.” Lance smirked, tucking it under his arm. “I need a coffee, I need to block out the experience we just had.”

“Not sure how your future billionaire husband might feel about that,” Keith smirked, taking the plush bat out of Lance’s arms and regarding it, staring into it's beady little eyes like he was interrogating it. “You know that Dimitri is a Russian name, right? And Bats are popularised as coming from Transylvania.”

“You don’t tell Dimitri where he’s from.” Lance snatched it back, “I’m pretty sure that Bats come from all over the place, don’t force your ignorance on him. Dimitri is a great vampire name as well.”

Keith scoffed, and took Lance’s free hand, like a habit and lead them to the nearest coffee shop. Lance couldn’t help but note the fact that Keith knew this city like the back of his hand, he never had a single hesitation, never had to check maps on his phone, it seemed as if he'd committed it all to memory.

“Hey, you never told me what it is that you did,” Lance asked, innocently enough as they walked into a coffee shop, filled with gorgeous decor, smattering greens of dangling plants, ivies twisting elegantly around the columns supporting the bar and artfully sketched chalk-boards. Keith glanced down at his watch, absentmindedly.

“Trust me, it’s dull.” Keith laughed, glancing back at Lance, a kind smile on his face. “What about you, I bet your job is crazy interesting.”

“I work at a pet shop.” Lance shrugged, snuggling Dimitri close to his chest, he hadn't thought about work the entire weekend, the memory of having to return to it so soon hitting him heavily, “So, as much as I love my work, it doesn’t get much duller than that, so try me.”

Luckily for Keith, the person behind the register asked for their order, and Lance was suitably distracted, his eyes dancing across the menu, trying to decide what he should have, there was so much there that he'd never heard of.

"Want me to order for you?" Keith smiled, gently tugging on Lance's hand. The woman behind the counter smiled knowingly, like she'd seen Keith a million times.

"Sure, I... trust you."

 

“Where are we going now?” Lance groaned, Dimitri tucked neatly against his side, Keith dragging him by the hand.

Keith wordlessly pointed to the gigantic beast of a Ferris Wheel a harsh white against the soft blue of the sky, Lance was at least well-versed enough in London to know what that was.

 

They finally made it to the queue, and stared up at the monolithic thing. Keith was desperately trying to ignore the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He figured that Shiro had taken a look at his online banking and realised what the situation was.

“Keith, you realise your phone is buzzing like crazy, are you not worried it might be an emergency or something?” Lance nudged him, they’d been pretty much attached at the arm since the dungeon fiasco, of course Lance felt it against him.

Keith sighed and pulled out the phone, his worst fears realized.

“Wow, Shiro... really wants to get a-hold of you…” Lance spoke quietly, his arm slowly unwinding from Keith’s.

“Oh, oh shit no, this is my boss.” Keith groaned, he really hadn’t wanted Lance to get the wrong idea.

Before they knew it they were stepping onto the slow moving carriage and Keith was staring at the multitudes of messages.

                _Shiro – Keith, are you home? Or has someone stolen my credit card and bought TWO, I repeat, TWO plane tickets, from New York, to Heathrow._

_Shiro – and then proceeded to spend almost eight hundred pounds on two nights at a FIVE STAR HOTEL ROOM IN CENTRAL LONDON._

_Shiro – Keith I swear to GOD, I am going to find you, and when I do, I will wring your neck and THEN you’re fired._

_Shiro – Answer your damn phone, Keith._

_Shiro – Either you or some goddamn stranger has spent upwards of 1500 POUNDS in TWO DAYS, Keith!_

_Shiro – Keith you are like a brother to me, but I will not hesitate to destroy you the next time I see you._

_Shiro – KEITH! ANSWER YOUR PHONE._

“Wow, maybe you should call him.”

Keith leapt out of his skin, not realising that they were already half way up in the air, and Lance had been reading all those messages from over his shoulder. He looked over at him, guiltily, his sexy mystery persona had been completely destroyed. The sun had begun to set and the gentle pinks and orange hues of the unusually cloudless sky made Lance's face even more beautiful if that were possible, he felt stupid with embarrassment.

“Sorry, Lance,” Keith sighed, dropping onto the bench in the middle of the carriage, Lance smirked down at him.

“So that cold, hard, shiny little piece of plastic wasn’t yours?” Lance smirked, leaning forward and resting a hand on Keith’s shoulder. Keith looked up at him, sadly and shook his head. “So you stole a company credit card, to take me on a trip to London?”

Keith hid his head in his hands, it did sound a lot like criminal activity. But he nodded nonetheless.

“God, you’re an ass.” Lance smiled, he pushed Keith’s hands away from his face and cupped his chin. “You’re a problematic asshole, and that was a really shitty thing to do, but I’m not even gonna lie, it’s about the most romantic thing that anyone has ever done for me.”

Keith let his eyes lock with Lance’s, shock staining his features. If Keith wasn't so embarrassed, he'd have thrown caution to the wind, ignored the other unobservant passengers and kissed him. He'd never been told he was romantic before, and he loved the sound of it, especially rolling off Lance's tongue.

“You have to be able to fix it somehow.” Lance reached for Keith’s hand and pulled him up. “I don’t know this guy but… he must be reasonable?”

That was the thing, Shiro was extremely reasonable, which was what made the threatening texts all the more terrifying.

“Just call him, you fucking wimp.” Lance smirked, taking his hands and pulling him up.

 

“KEITH, WHERE ARE YOU, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU.”

“Shiro, I’m sorry, please stop screaming at me.” Keith winced, he and Lance were leaning against the bannister lining the glass of the carriage. Lance was taking pictures of the scenery to send to his mom as Keith pathetically tried to explain himself to Shiro.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!”

“No, I’m sorry, please, just let me explain.” Keith groaned, dropping his head pathetically onto Lance’s shoulder.

“My god, you better have a good explanation, or so help me GOD.”

Shiro only referenced god when he was utterly livid. Keith had seen it maybe... once before, it had not ended well.

“You might still kill me, but please, hear me out.” Keith whined.

“I’m listening.”

“Ok, so… I was in this bar in New York, just having a couple of drinks,” Keith began, sighing and lifting his head to watch Lance’s face react to the scenery, his heart swelling at the sight of it. “And I saw this… guy.”

“Oh my god. Keith. Have you lost your goddamn mind?! This is because you wanted to get your dick wet?! ARE you kidding me?! If you thought you were dead before, multiply that by 10!”

“No, Shiro, he’s right here, he can hear you.” Keith winced, Lance was only shaking as he tried to hold back laughter, listening to Keith be berated so harshly.

“You’re still with him?! Where are you exactly?!”

“We’re on the lond-“ Keith stopped himself, if Shiro was in London as well, which could very well be the case, if he told Shiro were he was, he might actually track him down and kill him. “We’re in London.”

“Keith, this is not a good explanation for why you spent upwards of £1500 on some guy!”

“Shiro, he’s not some guy, okay?!” Keith groaned, leaning his head against the glass, maybe he shouldn't have said that but he delighted in seeing the pink of Lance’s cheeks in his periphery. “You know me, it’s usually a three hour max ordeal, and I know it sounds stupid but… y’know, let me send you a picture.”

“DON’T YOU DARE HANG UP ON M-“

Keith tapped some panicked buttons and sent the picture of Lance in Piccadilly Circus over to Shiro, and stared at the screen waiting for Shiro to respond.

                _Shiro – He looks so happy._

_Shiro – This makes no difference, I am still absolutely going to murder you the next time I see you._

_Shiro – Consider your days numbered._

Keith exhaled a sigh of relief, if he knew Shiro, and he sure as shit did, that meant he was off the hook. Thank god for Lance’s adorable face full of wonderment, he found himself staring at that photo again, found himself thinking about fate... about the chances that people didn't take.

He turned to face the real Lance, who was still staring out through the glass, a soft smile playing on his lips, Keith should have been embarrassed, but how could he embarrassed of something that put a look like that on Lance’s face.

“Lance, I’m so sorr-“

“I got the day off work tomorrow.” Lance interrupted, still staring out of the window. Keith was honestly so shocked that he couldn’t find the words.

Because really, Keith had totally forgotten about the fact that Lance still had a seven hour flight to look forward to, or maybe he'd chosen to forget that... minor detail.

Obviously, he was thrilled, but also terrified, because he’d only paid for two nights at that hotel, and there was no way that Shiro would allow for Keith to pay for another night and Lance’s flight home without Keith actually losing one of his balls.

Which meant that Keith only really had one option. And that option meant that all this would eventually come crashing back down to reality. He wasn’t ready for any of this to end, never.

“Awesome,” Keith breathed, slotting his hand into Lance’s. Maybe it’d be okay. Just… maybe.

 

“H-hey, where are we going?” Lance asked.

Now this, was absolutely how he died. Damn his naivety, damn his stupid attraction to raven-haired, midnight blue-eyed boys and a smile that threatened to break his heart everytime he saw it.

Keith had taken him on the underground to some quiet, empty location, which for London - Lance had learnt - was hard to find. The night had fallen, it was dark, incredibly dark and it was like Lance could already taste the chloroform on his lips.

“Keith, seriously, where are you taking me?” Lance’s voice had fallen into something much sterner, as they stepped out of the underground station and tasted the fresh air.

“Lance, do I have to say it again?” Keith turned to him and smiled, reaching out for his hand as an invitation for him to follow. Lance regarded it suspiciously, Keith looked like he could get Lance in an arm-lock with a knife to his throat without breaking a sweat, was he being too paranoid? All of this had been far too good to be true.

“Say what?” Lance breathed, his hand stuck still to his side, vaguely untrusting.

“Shut up and trust me!” Keith grinned, Lance rolled his eyes and relented, he cursed himself for not being able to say no to that face, or - he hoped - the sincerity in his voice.

“Is this about chicken again?” Lance smirked as they began walking through the dark, damp streets, still not another person in sight.

“I mean, you’re not far off, but this time it’s pizza.” Keith laughed, pulling him closer so that their footfalls fell into time.

“Keith, seriously, are you ever going to tell me what it is you do?” Lance sighed, the moisture in the air falling onto his eyelashes. “Or why on earth you know London so well.”

The hand wrapped up in Lance’s tensed a little, so subtly that Lance almost didn’t notice it, but he did and now... he was a little nervous.

“I-I work in events.” Was all that Keith seemed to be giving up. “I do a lot of travelling.”

“That’s really cool, so is it like event management?” Lance smiled, trying not to let the nerves stain his voice, but also not really understanding why Keith was so tense. “You get to go to all these cool places and organize amazing parties?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Keith chuckled, they rounded the corner and fell upon what look like the tackiest pizza place that Lance had ever seen.

“C’mon! I told you to trust me.” Keith smiled rolling his eyes at Lance's reluctant expression, pulling him inside.

 

Keith was watching Lance shovel food into his mouth, once more. Eye’s rolling back once more in pleasure, the fluorescent light from the pizza shop lighting up his features, the blue of his eyes suddenly so serenely apparent.

“Okay. Okay, for future reference, just assume that I always trust you.” Lance groaned, polishing off a slice ravenously.

“You said that about the chicken too.” Keith smirked, dropping their pizza boxes in the bin.

Really, the pizza had been a way to prolong what Keith had to face next, he reached out for Lance’s hand once more and headed in a familiar direction, Lance remained silent, as if he could feel the nervous energy radiating off Keith in droves, and Keith bit his lip as they finally came to it, an old-fashioned looking building that once used to be a huge manor house, that had been converted into flats. It was all huge, white brick and painted black wrought iron on the windows, plumes of green, well manicured bushes sprouting around the grand entrance to the building.

“Come on.” Keith breathed, encouraging Lance forward, Keith pulled out his keys and opened the front door, collecting the mail that had been left for the week that he’d been gone, and gestured for Lance, who had the most heart-breakingly confused look on his face, to follow him up the stairs.

“Where are we going?” Lance’s voice was so quiet, concerned. And Keith desperately wanted to play it off, like he didn’t know the repercussions that would follow. Keith breathed, the building quiet save for the creaking of the aged wood on the stairs as they ascended.

Because, drunken, horny, Friday night Keith hadn’t thought about the repercussions, because he’d never gotten to this point with anyone. They arrived at the third floor, and Keith pushed his keys in the door and unlocked it, opening the flat and turning to welcome Lance inside.

“This, is my apartment.”

 

Lance stepped inside. It was nice, nicely decorated, mostly completely bare safe for a couple of colourful blankets and empty takeaway boxes scattered about the place, but he really felt like he was missing something, he turned to Keith, who had shut the door, trying to appear casual as he rifled through the mail that he’d collected from beside the door.

“It’s really nice. You… live in London then?” Lance noticed the twitch in Keith’s shoulders as he said it. Lance was more curious about Keith's job than ever. "For work?"

“Yeah… the head office is here… it’s kind of like a home base for me…” Keith tried a smile, but it fell as quickly as it appeared. Lance could tell that there was at least a weeks-worth of mail in his hands.

“So… New York? You, come to America much?” Lance rubbed his shoulder awkwardly. Dropping the bag of his old clothes onto the floor next to the couch.

“Well… the night I met you was the first time I’d been there in six months.” Keith winced as he said it, still not able to look Lance in the eye.

Lance bit his lip. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information, because he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to see Keith again, because he did. He really wanted to see him again, a lot. It sounded stupid and so unbelievable, but he really liked Keith. And now he was faced with the very, very real possibility that he might not see him again.

And in the infinite realm of possibilities that they impulsively decided to give whatever this might become a go… once every six months was something that Lance wasn’t entirely sure he could do, he barely knew Keith really. He’d met him on a night out, and went on an unforgettable weekend away with him.

Lance could meet a million people in his lifetime, and he could guarantee that not one of those people could turn around and say that they’d had such an experience.

“Well… fuck.” Lance breathed.

Suddenly, Keith had dropped his mail, and was across the room, gently holding Lance’s face in his hands, like he couldn’t bear to see whatever stupid expression Lance’s face had been making without him realising.

“Hey, don’t make that face…” Keith breathed, he was so soft and sweet, his hands cupping Lance’s face so gently that Lance felt like he might cry. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” Lance faltered, staring into Keith’s eyes, and he thought, fuck it they might not see each other again after tomorrow, so what did it matter. “I like you.”

Lance watched Keith’s adorable, moonlit face fall in response. This was all much, much too heavy for two people who had spent less than 48 hours together.

 

Keith stared at Lance, still reeling from the words that had just fallen out of Lance’s mouth. Firstly because he realised he absolutely felt the same way. Secondly because… six months was a long time, and he couldn’t honestly expect Lance to wait that long, it… just wasn’t fair. Even with all the technology and the ability to connect over vast distances, it wasn’t really enough, he knew it wouldn’t have been enough for him.

“Hey, we had an amazing weekend right?” Keith exhaled, quietly, watching Lance’s eyes dart between Keith’s.

They didn't... know each other.

“Y-yeah,” Lance’s voice was so subdued and sweet.

But it felt like Keith had known him forever.

“Then that’s it,” Keith was trying to make it sound like a good thing. “We’ll always have this? Right? The weekend where you got kidnapped by a complete stranger, who you ended up having an unforgettable weekend away with.”

The laugh that toppled out of Lance’s mouth was something that Keith would regretfully never forget, it was so hollow and sad, like a man meeting the grim reaper and accepting his fate.

“Yeah… okay.”

Keith just wanted to get rid of the heart-breaking expression on Lance’s face, and it would probably hinder him more than it would help him, but it meant he was finally doing the one thing he’d wanted to do since the day they met, less than 48 hours ago.

And they were kissing, and Lance’s arms were wrapped around his waist, and for once everything felt like it was right, even though he knew tomorrow, after Lance went back home, that things would go right back to the way they were but he felt like everything would be different, would feel different. Like it would all be wrong.

Because how do you move on from something so perfect? And it was like he was memorizing all the things he could, the way Lance’s lips fit his so perfectly, the feeling of his body pressed close to his, how Lance seemed to know his body off by heart, how for the first time he didn’t want it to just be about sex.

Because fuck, this could have been the love of his life.

 

The light pouring through the window on that Monday morning wasn’t the thing that woke him up, it wasn’t even the sound of the cars beeping shrilly or the people bustling past outside. It was the sick feeling in Lance’s stomach that woke him up, as he stared at his phone, at the photo he’d taken of Keith’s head on his shoulder on the London Eye.

He felt Keith’s palm flat against his back a sleepy reassurance, he knew he had to book the ticket for his flight home but instead he found himself biting his lip, hard.

He glanced over to the window, the sun rising and burning brightly, the way the blinding shards of it broke through the blinds and cast rays over Keith’s sleeping form, and he had to tear his eyes away because he might never get back home at this rate, Keith's face was threatening to curse him, to give up everything he'd ever known, his job, his apartment, his family. How could this have happened, how could he care so deeply for a person he’d known for less than three days, it was ludicrous but there it was.The more he admitted it to himself, the more painful it was.

He sucked in a breath, booked a ticket and let himself drop back into the bed pulling Keith's body against his, a sleepy, happy groan of recognition as he did so, he could pretend for a couple more hours that this was where he was meant to be.

Eventually, he had to wake Keith up, he had to climb into the shower and wash the weekend away, the remnants of everything scrubbed from his skin. He’d never known a shower to be so cathartic, and as cathartic as it was, he didn’t feel any better.

He pulled on a fresh shirt that Keith offered to him, joking that it was a keepsake, but rather than lighten the mood it just made things sad and awkward. Lance bunched the fabric in his fingers, maybe he'd burn it, maybe he would never let it go, the scent of it almost intoxicating.

Even the taxi ride to the airport after coffee was painfully quiet, an hour of tension that hung in the air, like they were already trying to move on by pretending the other wasn’t there.

When the taxi pulled up, letting Keith know that they didn’t have long, everything was suddenly happening far too quickly for Lance to even take it all in. Maybe that was for the best, he could break down when Keith wasn't there.

“S-should we… exchange numbers?” Lance asked, even though he knew what the answer might be. Keith winced and bit his lip.

“Probably best that we don’t…”

And Lance understood, he understood completely, but it didn’t make it any less painful.

They stared at each other as the taxi driver began to get a little persistent, Lance wanted to yell at him, tell him to find some fucking humanity but Keith’s lips were on his for the briefest second.

“Bye, Lance.” Keith spoke, his voice as uneven as Lance’s mental state. But Lance didn’t have the words, and he had a plane to catch so, he turned and walked away, hearing the cab door close behind him, stepping through the automatic doors. He wanted to look back, to watch the taxi pull away, but he might not make it to his gate so he continued forcefully on his way.

It wasn’t till Lance sat in his seat on the plane that he really felt it. Because it hit him like a mother-fucking freight train.

Keith really could have been the one.

The fabled one that Lance had dreamt about, he'd been a hopeless romantic his entire life, and no matter how many failed relationships and heartbreaks he'd been through, nothing had compared to this. A single, fleeting, weekend.

It felt like a fucking romantic comedy, but really, Lance didn’t know Keith, they didn’t know each other, but it hurt like they’d been dating for years. And had it not have been for the once every six months, he had no doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t be sat there, devastated on a plane by himself, he’d be elated, excited about what was to come.

Because he couldn’t wait six months… could he?

And if life really had been like a movie, Lance would have raced off that plane, ran through that airport, knocking over people like they were cardboard cutouts, extras that held no meaning, leapt in a cab, found Keith in the bustling, busy streets of London, kissed him hard and told him that they would find a way, that they would make it work.

But life wasn’t like a movie. So instead Lance flew home, his head in his hands, his chest so full of emotion that he couldn’t think about anything else for the entire flight back, his mind racing about ‘the one that got away’.

He would have called his mom as soon as he landed, but he didn’t think he’d be able to hold it together enough to say that he was okay, because he wasn’t.

He finally fell through the door of his apartment and collapsed on the sofa, maybe he could pretend that it was all a dream, and that he’d been drunk on his couch the entire time, his stomach was churning, and he just wanted to curl up and tried to pretend that he didn’t feel like this. it was crippling and as much as he didn’t want to forget it, it hurt too much to remember.

Maybe in a year or so he could look back on this and laugh, revel happily in the memory of a beautiful chance he took, but right now he wanted to pretend it had never happened.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He awoke - he didn't even remember falling asleep - groggily and unhappily to the sound of his phone ringing, the vibration of it harsh against the coffee table he'd carelessly thrown it on, probably his mom checking that he was still alive, and without looking he held it to his ear, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Hola.” He whimpered quietly down the phone. Expecting to hear the sound of his mother, immediately flying off the handle because she knew his sad voice, she was soon to be demanding what was wrong.

“Hello?”

Lance’s entire body flew up and off the sofa to the sound of the single worst, most racist attempt at a Russian accent he’d ever heard before.

“This is Dimitri, I think you might have forgotten something.”

“KEITH!” Lance all but screamed into the phone, tears almost began streaming down his face at the sound of his voice. "What... what are you doing?!"

“Lance, you realise the first thing you did when we met was put your number in my phone.”

“Tell Shiro that if he wants a hand murdering you, I volunteer to help.” Lance clapped a hand to his forehead, dropping back down onto the couch, his heart racing so loudly he was sure that Keith must be able to hear it through the phone.

"I-I wasnt going to call you... and then I saw that forgotten, innocent bat staring up at me and... I had to." He could hear Keith faltering on the other end of the phone. "Because... fuck, I like you too."

"Goddammit, Keith." Lance dropped back against the couch cushions, his chest feeling like it was about to combust.

“I take it you don’t want me to bring Dimitri back to you.”

Lance felt his heart stop, a thick lump in his throat. This had to be some... sick and twisted joke, but then maybe it wasn't, maybe he was allowed to get his hopes up this time.

“Are you serious?” Lance’s voice was so quiet it was barely a whisper.

“Lance, we’ve been over this a million times.”

“I think I might need to hear you say it, just… one more time.” Lance grinned into his hand, the hand holding his phone barely able to keep it in place with the tense shaking his heart racing. Maybe this wasn't a missed chance, maybe this was something he could genuinely pin all his hopes on.

“Lance, for the last time, just… shut up and trust me.”

**Author's Note:**

> What a wild ride, am I right?  
> God, I hope this wasn't too cheesy, it makes me happy so fuck it.  
> Tumblr - foxsmo-lder


End file.
